by Millie Adams
He had been infatuated with Serena and he had been so certain...
He had been so certain love would grow between them. If not love, at least a friendship.
He had been naive.
He had interpreted her mercurial nature as something exciting. The scope and change of her moods like a tide. So stark was the ebb and flow of them that he could read them easily.
But they became erratic. The high of them often as unsettling as the low, which could last months. And eventually became all that remained.
It was only after his marriage with Serena had deteriorated to the point she no longer spoke to him that he realised he’d been...a romantic. He’d believed that she would be the one person he could be himself with.
He had met Beatrice when she was a girl, and had felt instantly drawn to the child who was nearly a prisoner in her bedchamber. He so rarely felt compelled to reach out to people around him. And truly, he did not often need to. He was a duke. People were desperate to reach out to him, and it made his life all the easier for it.
But she...
He had wanted to make her smile. In a world that seemed very determined to give her nothing to smile about.
If there was one thing he had understood, it was what it was like to be born into a life you had not chosen, and that felt ill-suited to your nature. And so he had always paid her visits when he’d come to call. Had always brought her sweets from London.
He had recognised a rebellion in her eyes, and he had felt a kinship to her. For he had been much the same. In the wrong life, the wrong family. Perhaps the wrong bloodline. Never meant to be the heir.
She had been placed in the wrong body. One that could not contain the wildness in her spirit. One he wholeheartedly supported.
Until, of course, it ensnared him.
Still, he would never have sentenced the poor creature to a marriage with him.
One of the many, many ways in which he was wrong included what he desired from women. He had been young and foolish and he had believed that his wife would...that as she was a virgin when she came to his bed he might—in time—introduce her to his preferences and she would share them.
Nothing could have been further from their reality.
In the years since his wife’s death, many women had enjoyed their time in his bed. But those women were not ladies.
Ladies, marriage...
All of that was supposed to be behind him.
‘You can continue to do whatever you like,’ Kendal continued, as if a wife was an incidental hardly worth overthinking. ‘You already have your heir. And Beatrice will have...a child to care for should she wish it. She... She desperately wants that. I know when the doctor told her that it was not advisable that she bear children she was deeply upset.’
‘She cannot have children?’ Briggs had not been aware of that.
‘She should not. That is my concern. She very likely can. But you know how her health was in her childhood, and it is the opinion of those in the medical profession that she would take a great risk to bear children. It was why she was not to make her debut this Season.’
‘That’s what you told her?’ Briggs asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What exactly did you tell her, Kendal?’
‘That she would not need to marry. That she would not marry. Because I would take care of her. And of course I will. She is my responsibility. It is my responsibility to keep her safe.’
He could see his friend had no real idea of what he’d done, and further that he...did not know his own sister.
Beatrice was sweet, it was true. But she was also quietly determined. And she was not half as biddable as she appeared. Over the years he’d stayed at Bybee House on many occasions and he knew Beatrice was often not where Kendal assumed her to be. He had seen her appear at dinner out of breath, with red cheeks from being in the cold, and occasionally a leaf somewhere in her tangle of brown hair.
But of course, his friend’s largest shortcoming centred around the idea everyone took his authority as seriously as he did.
His little ward, Eleanor, she hung on his every word.
His own sister on the other hand...
‘I see,’ Briggs said. ‘So, what you’ve done is create this situation we find ourselves in, while laying blame everywhere else.’
‘How have I created the situation?’ Kendal asked, clearly outraged.
‘You offered your sister a life sentence. Living here at Bybee House in the country, away from society, from friends, from freedom. I don’t know why she chose to target me as her means of escape, but she has found it, hasn’t she?’
‘What exactly are you saying, Briggs?’
‘You sent the lady from the room, so we cannot ask her. But do you not suppose that she was taking matters into her own hands? Now she is ruined. If I don’t marry her my honour will be worth nothing. If you don’t call me out as a result of this ruination, your honour will be nothing. If Beatrice does not marry, she will be... Well, she will never be received in society, will she? Not that you were to allow her out. She is, of the three of us, the one who stood to lose the least.’
‘You do not think...’
‘I am telling you that I have never laid a hand on your sister. And somehow, she came to be in my embrace in this study, which, I believe she knows you make use of in the evenings following such gatherings.’
Briggs could see the wheels turning behind Kendal’s eyes.
‘Shocking though I know you find it,’ Briggs said. ‘Not everyone agrees that you know best. Clearly, Beatrice is among that number.’
‘Beatrice,’ Kendal said.
And this time it was her name that held the tinge of murder. Kendal turned and tore from the room, and Briggs went after him, because after all, why should he not? He had already ruined the lady, why not accompany her brother to her bedchamber?
They wound down the labyrinthine halls of the massive estate, Kendal’s footsteps announcing his outrage against the marble floor. He flung her doors open, and a maid, who had been kneeling by the fireplace, immediately scurried away.
Beatrice was laying on a chaise, looking collapsed, which gave Briggs a strange sort of squeeze in his chest. He had come to know Beatrice when she was aged fourteen or so, and had not known her in the worst part of her illness. And he had to wonder if this was how she had looked then. Pale, drawn, and not infused with the sort of life he had come to associate with her.
She sat up, her face swollen, her eyes red. She looked distraught, so much so that it would nearly be comical were it not for...everything.
‘Briggs,’ she said. ‘Please know that I did not mean...’
‘You did not mean to entrap Briggs?’ Kendal asked. ‘Then who, my sister, did you intend to be caught with tonight?’
‘Hugh...’
‘Do not think me a fool, Bea, I know that this was a plot of yours.’
Of course, Briggs had been the one to tell him that. But it was not the time to comment on such a thing, he was certain.
Kendal continued, ‘Who did you intend to be trapped in a marriage with, Beatrice?’
‘Had I been caught with James rather than Briggs you would never have known it was a plot...’
He curled his lip. ‘James. James. That friend of yours from the country estate next door?’
Beatrice tilted her chin up, intending to look imperious, clearly. It was not terribly effective, given the tip of her nose was red. ‘Yes.’
‘His father is a merchant,’ Kendal said.
‘His father is an earl. The same as Penny’s, and you were going to marry her.’
At the mention of his former intended, Kendal’s face went to stone. ‘That is of no import. That is enough for me. It is not enough for you.’
Beatrice swung her legs over the edge of the chaise, the motion sudden a
nd not at all ladylike. ‘You were not even going to allow me to marry, so what concern is it of yours the title of the man that I choose?’
‘I feel we are perhaps having the wrong fight,’ Briggs said. ‘As he was not going to allow you to marry, and now you cannot marry this...this boy anyway.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, turning her focus back to him. ‘I did not know that you would be there. I expected for James to be there already. But he was not and... It was you.’
‘This is dangerous,’ Kendal said. ‘And foolish. You were playing with things that you knew nothing about. What you have done... You have potentially damaged yourself beyond saving. You have to marry Briggs, but that does not mean that society is going to be kind to you. You were caught in his embrace. Unfortunately for you, the wrong sort of people, the worst sort of gossips, saw. And from where I was standing the embrace had the mark of the obscene.’
Briggs snorted. Because, honestly, it was becoming theatrical. ‘I dare say that it looked nothing like obscene to you, Kendal. You might be playing the prig in front of your sister, but you and I both know that you have seen and participated in more decadent pursuits of a common afternoon, let alone a night in an empty drawing room.’
And yet, the impression of her luscious roundness remained in his hands, and he had to confess if only to himself that it felt a bit like obscene where the sensation lingered.
‘Not,’ Kendal bit out, ‘with a lady.’
‘Beatrice is more than suitable to be my Duchess,’ Briggs said. ‘And I will not tolerate a bad word spoken about her, in society or this room.’
He did not know why he defended her. Not in light of everything.
Perhaps it was because of what she had done.
It was foolish. Ridiculous. And exceedingly brave. She had risked much to defy her brother.
Had she done it for love? The love of this... James?
He looked at her, at the misery on her face.
He did not think she had. She was not heartbroken now, but furious.
She had done it to kick against Kendal, and for that he could only feel a grudging sort of respect.
From infancy, there had been a clear path laid out for Briggs. All he had to do was marry and produce an heir, and the rest... It was his choice.
Beatrice was beneath Kendal’s authority. And she had limited options when it came to opposing it. None of what her brother had was hers. Nothing would ever pass into her ownership. She would have to acquire a husband to ever change her circumstances, and Kendal had taken steps to ensure she could not do so.
So she had defied him in the only way she could.
Forced his hand.
In truth, he was angrier at his friend than he was at her. In this, he understood her. The desire to have one’s own life. To make one’s own choices. All while being thoroughly misunderstood by those around you.
In his case, actively despised.
‘A duchess?’ she said. ‘I don’t want to be a duchess. I just want to marry James. I want to be free. And I want to have a life of my own. I didn’t want to stay here forever. I already made an entire life of these walls. And I could not take any more of it. You took everything from me, Hugh, when you said that you would not allow me to marry. When you withheld presenting me to court, having my Season. I... I did not have a choice. I told you then that I could not bear it and you did not listen. And now you cannot simply hand me off to Briggs...’
‘What I offer you is an honour,’ Briggs said, the reality of the situation not quite yet settling in. For it was too much to fathom. Beatrice. Beatrice as his wife. Him taking a wife a second time...
He had never intended such a thing.
Perhaps William needs a mother.
William had a governess. William...
Was the angriest, most difficult child he had ever known. He had terrors in the night, and destroyed all of his toys. He did not speak fluently, and he was volatile at the best of times. It was only because he had managed to secure a very esteemed governess that anything went as well as it was currently. She was a sturdy woman with a capable manner, and years of experience. She had informed him that she had known children like William before. It was her opinion that he would grow well enough, though would potentially always have a different sort of manner about him.
The boy had support. He did not need a mother.
William had had a mother, who had not cared enough about him to stay.
Just as Briggs had had a father who had hated him.
At least he loved his son.
You leave him to his governess more often than not...
But he did not scorn him.
Surely that had to count for something.
‘I am preserving your reputation the best I possibly can,’ Briggs said. ‘And my own. You have given me no choice in the matter, Beatrice.’
‘I will secure a special licence,’ Kendal said.
Briggs snorted. ‘I am more than capable of securing my own special licence, Kendal. Or do you forget that you do not outrank me?’
He caught his friend’s gaze, and held it for a moment.
He did wonder sometimes, if Hugh forgot. That they were not now schoolboys. That Briggs no longer required his protection, his guidance.
‘I have not agreed to marry you,’ Beatrice said.
Briggs looked down at her, and saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Perhaps he had misread her.
‘Did you fancy yourself in love with James?’ Briggs asked. She said nothing, though her misery seemed to increase. He felt almost sorry for her. ‘You will recover.’
‘Get some sleep,’ Kendal said. ‘There will be a wedding to plan on the morrow. And we will have to inform Mother.’
Chapter Three
Beatrice was desolate. Everything was wrong. And worst of all, she didn’t even know who to speak to about it. Or if she could speak to anyone about it. That was how she found herself slumped in the morning room with nothing but cold meats and eggs for comfort.
It was then that her mother came in.
‘Beatrice,’ she said softly.
It was the softness that nearly broke her.
But everyone was soft with her. Always. Except for Hugh last night. And Briggs had not looked particularly soft either.
Her heart gave a great thud.
Briggs. She was to marry Briggs. In three days’ time. And suddenly, she felt overwhelmed by all she did not know.
About him. About the world. About what was to be between a husband and a wife.
‘You’re crying,’ her mother said.
Beatrice touched her face. There were indeed tears on her cheeks. She had not realised.
‘Did he hurt you?’ her mother said, drawing close to her. She reached out and put her hand on Beatrice’s. ‘Has he...forced you into anything? I will not consign you to an unhappy union, Beatrice. I know that your brother thinks that it’s best but if he...’
Beatrice shook her head. ‘He did not hurt me.’ Hurt? Being held by Briggs had been the furthest thing from hurt. She had avoided thinking of that moment, but now it loomed large in her mind. ‘I am the one that ruined everything. I am the one that caused this.’
Her mother looked at her closely. ‘How exactly did you cause it?’
She explained her plan to her mother. Her ultimate rebellion against Hugh. ‘And I could not tell anyone because you would stop me. But I... I am not as weak as everyone thinks I am. I have... I have dreams. There is a purpose to why I survived my childhood. I nearly died so many times, but I did not. And if I’m simply to live out all my days here at Bybee House, I don’t know...’
‘Oh, Beatrice.’ Her mother put her hand over hers. ‘Hugh does not mean to hurt you in any way. It’s just that he worries for you.’
Her mother loved her, and she knew that. She also knew her mothe
r had spent years deep in the throes of a relationship with Beatrice’s father that had been anything but easy.
In those years, her mother had often been withdrawn. When her father had flaunted his many infidelities, her mother disappeared into her chamber and did not emerge. Or worse, into laudanum.
She had overheard her mother say to a visiting friend once that being married to the Duke would not have been so awful if she did not loathe him and desire him in equal measure.
Beatrice had not understood what it meant. She still did not.
But in the years since her father’s death, her mother had emerged much stronger. Much happier, and Beatrice had never wanted to do anything to disturb that.
‘I know it. But this was more than protection. And I had to do something about it.’
‘It is a good match,’ her mother said. ‘He is a duke. He is well liked in society...’
‘Yes.’
She didn’t know why, but he also frightened her. On some deep level. As much as he drew her to him. And she had not intended to embroil him in this.
‘He deserves better. Than me.’
He had lost a wife already. Beatrice did not know what ailment had taken his first Duchess, but to be married to a woman who had been told she might not... Be strong. She had not intended to steal any chances from him and a happy life. She and James had an agreement. An understanding. Briggs had not been part of it, and he did not deserve this.
‘His honour will not allow him to let this all fall upon you, dear.’
‘But it should,’ Beatrice said. Then angrily disagreed with herself. ‘No. It should fall on Hugh. Because he is the one who forced me into this position. He is the one who made this untenable. And I... I’m just so sorry. I care quite a lot too much about Briggs for this to... For this to be his fate.’
‘Beatrice, we must speak. And you are getting married in three days and...’
‘Yes?’
‘There are things that a married woman must do. There is... A duty in being a man’s wife.’